Stories of Jack
by secret agent zenorto
Summary: The adventure of an elite soldier working both as a freelance merc and as a C.I.A agent, with each chapter bringing a new, exciting part in the story of a man who only knows war.
1. Chapter 1

"Jack, your target today will be an… interesting one to take out." Was what Jack remembered at the briefing. Jack was somewhat content with his assignment. He is getting limousine service today.

Jack looked out over the freeway with a daydreamer's sparkle in his eye. A fence separated him and the freeway, if he were to fall off. People walked by to work, to parties, to appointments, to wherever they needed to go except for one strange man. He was dirty, and not a pervy dirty, he was muddy-dirty. He wore a beanie, long coat, and held a paper bag with an empty bottle in it. He was sad that it was empty, and needed to beg for cash so he could get another. "Hey, gotta live life to its fullest!" Is what he would say if someone ever caught him.

" 'Scuse me sire, but could you spare me some coin? I gots no more!" He looked up at Jack with his puppy-dog face that he had been working on for his entire hobo career. Jack looked at him for a good 5 seconds, his face expressionless, but still slightly leaning towards curiosity. He turned back and watched the freeway again. The hobo got a little upset. "Hey, who do you think you are to just ignore me like that? I've met a lot of stubborn people in my life, but you have got to be the worst!"

Jack paid no attention.

Dang, the hobo thought. I was sure that would work. I insult them, we argue, and in the end they give money out of pure impatience! Nobody has ever resisted my un-called-for insults before this! Just who is this guy anyway? and why is he in a suit, looking out to the distance like that?

The hobo trotted around Jack and poked at him in the chest. Nothing. He lifted his right arm. No reaction. He touched his cheeks and stomped on his foot, only to feel the pain of an exercised foot resisting a weak blow like that. The hobo cursed under his breath, and turned to give Jack "What He Deserved" when he saw Jack climbing the fence!

"Hey, HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Jack continued to climb with persistence. The hobo started to worry. What, is he suiciding? Was that why he wouldn't talk or flinch? "Hey, man, I, I'm really sorry. Please don't kill yourself because of me…" Jack reached the top of the fence and balanced himself on top. He took easy breaths through his nose, and jumped. The hobo screamed.

The hobo ran to look over the fence to see the dead body, but nothing was there. Jack laid low on a semi truck carrying mattresses. There his target was, in a limousine, escorted by 4 motorcycles, each holding up the 4 lanes. Jack frowned slightly. He realized that this isn't going to be so easy.

Jack pulled out a silenced pistol and climbed down to shotgun of the semi. He aimed it at the driver. "Whoa! Hey, how did you-" Jack put his finger over the man's lips and knocked him out cold. He gained control of the vehicle and sped up towards the back of the limousine and rammed it. The cyclists noticed. All four of them slowed to a point where they surrounded the semi. They pulled out submachine guns and fired. Jack ducked his head and pulled out his silenced pistol. After gunfire stopped, he burst open the driver seat's door with his foot and jumped out. Falling on one of the bikers, they wrestled until Jack judo flipped him off of the bike.

The biker barrel rolled down the highway where cars halted from the body and abandoned semi. Jack looked back and saw two more bikers reloading and aiming their guns at him. Jack took to the handlebars and sped up next to the limousine, where they couldn't shoot him. Jack shot the tinted windows once, twice, three times, and things went into a slow-motion. the target ducked while the armed bodyguards inside the vehicle took aim to Jack's noggin. They fired, and Jack's head flew back from the blow. He lost control, and the bike flipped over to hit the other two bikers behind. A huge explosion was left in its wake.

The target sighed and wiped the sweat off of his brow. He relaxed a little, and tried to enjoy the rest of his ride to LAX. Then he heard a noise outside. *Pew* *Pew* *Pew*. Gunshots! The target ducked again, and saw that all his guards were dead. Before the target had time to think, Jack swooped in through the window and tackled him outside. They rolled from the impact of bailing a moving car, and Jack immediately got up and told the target to surrender.

"But, but how? I saw you! I saw you die! YOUR SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!" The target got up and started to run, but quickly fell. His hands and feet were tied together. The driver of the limousine walked up to Jack and put his hand on his shoulder. "Good Job."


	2. Chapter 2

Stories of

Jack

The fireworks spectacular lit up the night sky above the stadium. The home team had won the game, and celebration began. Oh, what a marvelous sight it was! Different colors and shades of those colors sparkled in the eyes of the viewers as they watched. Jack, though, was not here for the awesome show. He lightly pushed the amazed people aside, each blast in the sky revealing his white complexion and dark, ruffled hair. Some fans were going ballistic, screaming into the air as the celebration filled their spirits. Jack paid no attention, and walked through into the stadium entrance and outside.

People unwilling to pay the ticket price hung outside their cars to watch the display as well. Irrelevant to Jack's mission, he continued on to a door that read ,"Authorized personnel only". Jack opened the door and entered. He faced a wall as he came in, but as he turned to the left a hallway appeared, and there Jack walked his casual, normal, slightly intimidating walk.

Jack readied himself as he strode down, pulling out his silver pistol full on bullets. He knew what he was in for, and he grinned at the thought. It wasn't normal, though. Jack shows little or no emotion, and if you were to see it looked like a small smirk. But nonetheless, Jack was ready, and it was going to be good.

Five minutes passed until Jack saw a gangster-looking guard outside a door with an automatic weapon. Jack immediately fired his gun and the guard fell to the ground, motionless. Jack proceeded to the door and kicked it open, revealing about ten other guys looking the same as the guard. There was a package on the ground. Jack looked at the package and then at the gang. They did the same. Jack broke the silence by firing all the rest of his rounds at the gangsters. He hit three and the rest took cover under some desks. Jack threw away his gun, took out two submachine guns, and sprayed all the bullets around the room, his face expressionless.

Two fell to the floor, but then one of them fired a bullet a Jack. It connected with his leg and Jack crawled back into the hallway, wounded. The remaining gang members ran out, guns pointing, laughing. "What you gunna do now, eh?" one of them said. Rumbles and screams started occurring outside, and the gang members were confused. Then all of a sudden a gigantic, unexploded firework burst through and seemingly hit the gang members and Jack. Dust filled the air.

Two weeks passed, and the accident left a few injured but none killed. The news team was told that it wasn't allowed to report the killed gang members for some reason, but they were allowed to report of a mysterious hero who disarmed the explosive package before the firework hit it. His whereabouts are unknown and so is the way he disarmed the package but, truthfully, that's how it should be.


	3. Chapter 3

STORIES OF JACK

The wind on Jack's face blew a steady cool breeze as the convoy of heavily-outfitted mercenaries drove alongside the dirt road. The sky was laden with beautiful sparkling stars, each with its own story to tell on how it was born, and how it would go out. Jack's adventure this time around would be just like a star's; exciting and explosive! Jack admired the amazing sights of the sparkling sky, he didn't see much of this back when he "worked in the city". Too many lights, too much stress from bullets whizzing past your strained neck. The environment gave him a sense of nostalgia and peace, and for the first time, Jack let his guard down.

The other men in Jack's hum-vee were having a giddy old time, laughing from the depths of their belly's and drinking the night away. They had at first invited Jack inside the vehicle; their mission was done, and there was no reason Jack should reside by himself up at the turret on top.

" COME ON! We hardly know anything about you! Yeah, you're the new guy, and yeah, we are in the middle east, and yeah, it's pretty freakin' dangerous here, but lighten up! Laugh a little! DRINK! It's good for your soul!" Johnson, head of squadron 4, exclaimed to the expressionless Jack. Jack insisted he stay at the turret. "Suit yourself, man. All I'm sayin' is war don't have to be so ravenous." Jack heard the laughter and fun going on inside the hum-vee, and even heard some partying coming from the other squadrons ahead of them. Jack felt a sting of loneliness, but knew better than that. He knew he couldn't have any friends; it was too dangerous.

Jack suddenly tensed and looked around the landscape. Nothing but pitch black sand. He strained his eyes into the far distance. but saw nothing out of the norm. Jack couldn't see the danger, but years at this job left him with a sixth sense to feel it. None of the mercenaries seemed to notice a change, but Jack kept his guard up. A moment later, though, Johnson. who was riding on the right side of the car, tensed up as well.

Cadet Williams, playing poker with the rest of squadron 4, saw Johnson fell at an unease. "Anything wrong, captain?"

"Um, I'm not sure. I think I'm just tired, that's all.

"Captain, what's up? you were just cheery a moment ago!"

"Stop the vehicle"

The six members of squadron 4 looked up at Jack, who had said those mysterious words.

"So you can talk!" Said Cadet McKinley, pleasantly surprised.

"We need to stop this car now!" The mercs were taken aback by this sudden change in tone.

"Why do we need to-"

"He's right. Stop the car." Captain Johnson cut off Williams and told the driver to cut the engine. The driver nodded, and did as he was told. All of the soldiers, with expressions of confusion, stared at the captain.

"HEY!" The car ahead stopped and a soldier popped out of the hole on top. "WHY DID YOU STOP TH-" The soldier did not get to finish his sentence, as his body and the rest of the crew in his vehicle were engulfed in a huge fireball. The fire illuminated the dusty ground twenty feet, and the exploded vehicle lay still in the dark world, as if acting as a light beacon to it.

The captain was not hesitant."GET OUT OF THE CAR!" Captain Johnson yelled, his eyes darting and wide, uncertain of the future.. All the men grabbed their assault rifles and ran out of the car. Captain Johnson beckoned for the men to follow, and led them into the darkness of the desert. The men of squadron 4, dazed, confused, and fearing for their lives, positioned themselves behind two boulders and stared with endearing eyes at the captain, hoping he had the answer to this sudden situation.

He did not.

Panting, Captain Johnson scouted with thermal vision goggles over the field. He could see squadron 2's vehicle ablaze, and obscuring most of his view with its large heat outline. The other soldiers pulled out their goggles as well, and passed their watchful eyes over the landscape. Williams was the first to speak up.

"Sir! 7 heat signatures to the northwest! The vehicles looked heavily armored, too!"

"Sir, I have also scouted out heat sigs. About ten of them, due south."

"8 signatures, southeast Sir!"

Captain Johnson cursed under his breath. "Men, we are surrounded." The soldiers looked at each other, then back at Johnson, his head down in defeat. "We probably aren't making it out of here alive, if they are hostiles." The mercs felt the sting of the fact they are dead meat, and shifted uneasily in their boots. An aura of gloom loomed over squadron 4 as another bomb blew squadron 3's vehicle and squadron 4's sky high. The huge flames bellowing from the cars reflected off of Jack's eyes as he watched. _It's now or never, _Jack said to himself.

Ripping off his jacket and pack, Jack reached into a metal case and pulled out a black iron cube, about the size of a large man's fist. Examining it, Jack tapped it twice and ,in a robotic voice, the cube said "Welcome back, master".

"What the hell is that thing?" Williams asked in his southern accent.

No response came from Jack as he punched in a long and complicated code into the iron box. "Call squadron 5 and see if they are still alive. I'll hold off the enemy convoys." said Jack

"By yourself?" Johnson questioned, but Jack was already halfway to where he was to be stationed. "Well, you heard the man! Call the surviving squadrons!"

Standing on top of a tall, thick boulder, Jack again looked at the wonder of technology he held in his hands. Jack knew what this thing was capable of, and dared not create a weapon too powerful, for fear of unforeseen consequences. The cube began to glow, and words appeared on an invisible screen in front of Jack, like it was a projection. The cube rattled, shook, and the outline of a sniper began to take form in mid air. The steel frame, 50-caliber bullets, and scope, all made out of thin air. Jack took the weapon after it finished materializing and took his position aiming at the southeastern convoy. The cube fell to the ground, powering down, and the color it once emitted was now a faint tinge. He put it in his pocket and aimed down the sight.

Aiming down his crosshairs, Jack fired all twenty rounds of the sniper within 5 seconds. The blast sounded like a machine gun, and the mercs all took cover, only to realize it was Jack. In the distance, they saw the convoy in flames, never standing a chance against a rifle of that caliber. Click-clack, the gun was reloaded, and Jack fired again at the same speed. Distant explosions hinted another convoy was taken down, but the situation was so stressing, all the mercs' judgment were blurred.

Jack put down the sniper and then fell to the ground, breathing heavily. He took the aiming bot off of his face and fell to the ground, exhausted. That much recoil would have killed a man, but Jack still took it all in and was now paying the price. His radio rang. "JACK? DO YOU READ ME? THIS IS JOHNSON! SQUADRON 5 AND 3 ARE ONLY SUFFERING A FEW MEN FROM THEIR UNIT, BUT WE WON'T HOLD UP MUCH LONGER! THE NORTHERN CONVOY HIT US HARD, OVER 100 OF THEM! WE NEED YOU TO REGROUP WITH US ASAP! JACK? JACK! WE N-" The radio went silent.


	4. Chapter 4

Stories of Jack

The jail had a strong scent and atmosphere reeking of death and punishment. chains holding deceased prisoners clanged against the wall. Jack slowly opened his eyes to see a man in a suit talking to one of the prison guards.

"Please, if you would just listen to reason…"

"No! Da boss said tat da prisoners stay! They fetch price as slaves ten times higher than your offa! You and your American greed! Always looking out for yourselves! We are not to fall to your schemes, so leave.!"

"Then you leave me no choice, then."

"Wha-" But it was too late. an iron blade, laden with poison, had penetrated the prison guards torso. The man fell to the ground, heaving before finally letting the life leave his body. The man in the suit took the keys from the man's pocket and opened the door. Jack looked at the man with blurred, half open eyes.

"Well, lookie' here. The best agent in the country- no- the world, is in the captivity of a band of petty thieves!"

Jack looked away, staring at the ground in seeming defeat.

"Don't get me wrong, it's not like the agency's lost all hope in your endeavors and replaced you!" The southern man cackled a low laugh. " Jack…. I would just like to ask you, why did you let them capture you? I know for a fact that you could have taken out guys than this. Hell, I'm sure you could bust out of this entire prison by yourself if ya wanted!" The suited man looked away, as if a wave of disappointment suddenly hit him.

"Jack, what has happened to you?"

Jack continued to stare at the ground, hopeless and empty.

The suited man got up from his crouched position and started to leave. "The agency is not fond of your past actions, Jack. Your recent string of events has caused much unease within the confounds of the council, and for this you are terminated."

Jack quickly looked up at the suited man. "What? Terminated?"

"Yes. And you know what termination really means. I'm sorry it had to come to this, you really used to be legendary. Your work in Bangkok and Moscow inspires the new guys all the time, and us oldies really appreciate that, but you've lost your touch. The Middle East must've really hit ya hard, every soldier feels it."

Click-Clack, went the suited man's silenced pistol. "I'm sorry for this, friend." His finger over the trigger, his hand trembled like a violent earthquake, the sight wavering over Jack's limp head. The man's face burrowed. _Come on, Dale, you can do this! Didn't get all the way here just so you could cry and be pals with a traitor._

Before he shot, Jack started speaking, his words soft and kind in nature. "Don't do this. Please. Have you already forgotten about the battles in Hong Kong? Please remember, Dale. Please tell me you haven't forgo-"

"THERE ISN'T A DAY THAT GOES BY THAT I FORGET ABOUT HONG KONG!" The room fell silent once again, the agents face even more intense. "JACK, I CAN'T LET YOU LIVE ANY LONGER."

"NO! DON'T DO IT, DALE!" Guard's voices in the distance started to become faintly audible.

"JACK, PLEASE!"

"DALE!"

"!"

A flurry of bullets rang out, each one moving at 300 miles per hour. Dale's face was streaked with tears as he gave out everything he had. The clip ran out, and Dale was breathing heavily from all the screaming. Dales eyes widened, though, as he saw his enemy still alive, and not harmed. Bullets mounded on the wall where Jack's head was once positioned, and the chains containing the man were now hanging from his fore arms. Standing up, a smirk appeared on Jack's face, knowing full well he still had it. The fright inside of Dale grew to an enormous height, and he cowered in fear as Jack approached him. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he said:

"You can't act under pressure, and you can't stand losing a friend, that much I know. Leave. Now. Things aren't what they seem. Don't go back to the agency, they will just kill you. You know how to get out of here. Go!" Dale nodded, wiped the tears and snot from his face, and began to run.

"I have to find Johnson," said Jack.


End file.
